Jouissance
by complacentCatalyst
Summary: An AU Hetalia fanfiction. Several victims are found murdered in grotesque ways, and it's up to Alfred  Jones  and Arthur  Kirkland  to figure out what's going on.


"Alfred."

Alfred F. Jones stood behind his desk, staring down at the files that adorned its surface. He was a man of average height with short blonde hair and blue-gray eyes. He sported a simple brown suit with a blue tie tucked into a matching brown vest. He looked up from the files and donned his hat. "Just taking one last look," he explained.

"You'll get plenty more." The other man said flatly: he too wore a suit just a few shades darker and his tie was a bright red. His features were similar to Alfred's aside from green eyes and bushier eyebrows – he stood at just a few inches shorter. He was Arthur Kirkland. Arthur and Alfred had both been in the business for a long time. Both were known for their perseverance. Arthur had come from Europe which explained his smooth British accent. He was also known for his air of authority, which he expressed often.

Alfred followed him to the door and they made their way out of the building towards his car. While they were riding down the main road, Arthur sighed. "I've never seen anything quite like this before," he said. "To be honest, it's worrying me. Those pictures…"

"We'll work it out," Alfred assured him. "It's just a grudge someone had."

Arthur gave him an odd look, skeptical and unconvinced.

"Grudges cause shootings," he said, "not things like this."

They reached their destination: A brick apartment building wedged in between two other buildings that looked almost exactly the same.

"One-nineteen Second street." Arthur opened his door and stepped out, slamming it shut behind him. "The pictures can never compare to the real thing. I'm glad I didn't eat before we came."

Alfred climbed out of the car and shut his door as well. He chuckled at Arthur. "You gotta watch the horror movies. They help you stomach it in real time. Alright, let's go."

They entered the apartment complex and presented their badges. The woman at the desk nodded sullenly and they used the stairs to get to the third floor, then they checked each door for room 3F. Alfred was the one to find it. He opened the door and entered, and Arthur inhaled deeply before following him in.

The apartment was filled with police and possible evidence in labeled plastic bags. Officers rushed about, talking quietly to each other. The chief of police approached them, arms crossed over his broad chest. Like the pair of detectives, his hair was blonde and his eyes were a bright blue. His hair, however, was slicked back professionally and he shared Arthur's air of authority – though he appeared to be the kind who would take it to the extreme. He looked the both of them up and down, then nodded.

"Detectives." he greeted.

"Ludwig." the detectives replied in unison.

"The real scene's in the kitchen. If you'll follow me." Ludwig started for the kitchen with Alfred following closely behind him. Arthur hesitated for just a moment before following as well.

Immediately upon entering the kitchen, it was obvious that there had been a struggle before the murder. Food was scattered about the counter tops and the floor, some of it creating a stench that hovered through the whole room. Several cabinets were still open, out of one had fallen containers of spices and seasoning. That was not the most alarming part: the most alarming part would be the body.

The body of a man not much older than thirty, with dark brown hair pulled into a ponytail that hung down his back, lay slumped over the wooden island-counter, face lying in a pot full of water. In his arms were large household knives meant to be used with a cutting board. The wounds were covered with dried blood, some of which had leaked onto the counter and then dripped to the floor. Police officers were even in here, taking pictures of every square inch of the small kitchen and writing notes down on notepads.

"Mr. Yao," Ludwig said, gesturing towards the body as if introducing them. "First name 'Wang.' Renowned businessman with ties to a lot of popular markets. There isn't any evidence of a planned murder, nor is there evidence of anyone having anything against him. Apparently his hobbies were cooking and saving money."

"Sounds like a charming fellow," Arthur commented, waving a hand in front of his nose to dissipate the smell. Alfred was leaning in close to the body, looking for anything the police may have missed. "Nasty way to go," he mumbled.  
>"You should see his face," Ludwig said, frowning. "I trust you read the reports thoroughly. Mr. Yao was cooking a nice home dinner yesterday evening, around seven p.m., which is when the sounds of a fight were reported from the apartment next door. We suppose the killer snuck in somehow and startled him, then attacked him. There was a short struggle, and somehow the killer managed to pin him down." He gestured towards the knives going through Mr. Yao's arms and undoubtedly the wood underneath. "Then he decided to make it more grotesque by taking the pot of boiling water off the stove and drowning our poor friend here in it."<p>

"Any fingerprints?" Alfred inquired. The chief shook his head. "We've gone over the whole place at least three times," he explained. "We can only assume the killer wore gloves."


End file.
